A Man Reborn
by The Archangel Metatron
Summary: A 40-year old veteran is reborn into the world of Pokemon, a world he has loved since he was a child. Join him on his journey and see what happens. #BadSummary Possible lemons. Possible incest. Possible pokephilia.


**The warnings in the summary are just for if I ever feel capable of writing those types of scenes and will be changed as necessary. This is only my second piece of written work that I've ever put out for criticism so feedback is always appreciated. Apart from that, I hope you enjoy what I've written and take note that I should be publishing more of this soon-ish. Likely before The Half-Breed at any rate.**  
Chapter 1  
I sat up quickly, dragging air into my lungs as my heart pounded in my chest. Looking around, I found that I was sat on the metal floor of a large, box-shaped room. Lowering my head into my hands I winced as a short burst of pain shot behind my eyes. Ugh, what happened? Where was I? The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted my musings and I glanced up, only to spot a plain wooden desk placed in front of one of the walls, sure that it hadn't been there only seconds prior. Behind it sat a man with long, lanky arms, dressed in a black and white pinstripe suit. He had flat, black hair, dull, grey eyes and a long, pointed nose, atop which sat a pair of plain, square-rimmed glasses.

"Mr. Phillips," he droned in a low, flat voice, "please take a seat."

As he finished speaking he gestured toward a simple wooden chair that seemed to have appeared from nowhere, just like the desk. Swallowing, and finding my mouth oddly dry, I pushed off the floor and onto my feet. As I brushed off my jeans I made my way over to the chair and sat stiffly, hands held awkwardly in my lap, unsure of what to do. Now that I was closer, I could note the deathly pallor of his skin and small wisps of fog that drifted out of his sleeves.

"So," I started, but stopped to send my tongue skittering across my lips, hoping to offset the dryness of my throat. "Where, ah, where are we? Who are you?"

"Yes, well, this, Mr. Phillips," he began, gesturing around the closed off box room with one hand as he picked up a folder with the other, "is Limbo. And you are, unfortunately," he said, at this point opening the folder, "very, very, dead."

Stopping to look up at me, seemingly gauging my reaction, he continued, looking back down at the folder as he did.

"And I, Mr. Phillips, well I have been called many things, but, you may call me the Death." With the finishing of this statement he again directed his gaze towards me, appearing to look for something, some sort of reaction.

I was almost beginning to think he got a kick out of freaking people out. However, oddly enough, this answered calmed me down, my hands stopping their fidgeting.

"I see," releasing a large sigh I went to continue, before being stopped by a small chuckle bubbling up from the pit of my stomach. Starting over, I placed my elbows down onto my knees, leaning forward as I did.

"So I'm dead then? Well, fuck me six ways from Sunday."

The man (or was that personification?) raised a singular eyebrow, a glimmer of disappointment sparking in his eyes before being extinguished.

"You are not afraid. Not anymore. Why is that?"

"I'd rather know my situation than not, helps roll with the punches, y'know? I mean, while part of me is still completely in shock over this, most of me is just glad. Besides," I muttered, tracing one of many scars that twirled around my knuckles before heading up my arm. "There are things in life worse than dyin'."

Death stared at me for a while after that with a knowing look in his eye before slowly nodding.

"I apologize for bringing up bad memories. Would you like to move onto the crux of the matter?"

"Please."

Nodding, he spoke, "Very well. On the 16th of July, 2042, you passed away in the emergency response surgery room of the Townsville Veteran's Hospital in Queensland, Australia. Cause of death was residual shrapnel finally making its way into vital organs, however, though expected, you were not able to be saved. You have been brought here because I want to give you another chance. A chance to be reborn and live another life. Memories intact, of course."

"Why would you do this? Why me?" I asked him, not seeing any reason to offer this to me in particular.

"I was bored and you happened to come along at the right time. I've been doing this every once in a while for the past few centuries as well, so the chance isn't as low as you may think." He replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

"I see. Like a light novel then?" Seeing him nod in response I continued. "All right then. Let's do this."

As his mouth widened in a toothy grin, I missed his hands weaving a pattern, sending a small blast into my chest. As the blast hit, I flew back, and just before hitting the wall I heard him speak-

"Use well the gift I've given you, Mr. Phillips. And good luck."

-And then I knew no more.


End file.
